


sweet talker

by lilantis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilantis/pseuds/lilantis
Summary: He has no choice. He opens the door and is greeted by the very last thing he could’ve ever expected. Music floats down the stairs from her quarters, light and lilting and beating in time to his racing heart as he crests the stairs and sees her.“That’s… not Dalish.”It is quite possibly the most idiotic and least charming thing he could have possibly said. He does not remember the last time a woman made it difficult for him to form words.-a flirty one shot set during inquisition, featuring dancing and blushing and flirting and sexual tension, oh my!





	sweet talker

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the prompt "You're adorable."
> 
> comments will make my day! :)

One knock, two, a pause, another. 

There is no answer. 

Three knocks, quickly and in succession, met only with silence.

His heart begins to beat a little bit faster, irrationally, stupidly. Is she alright? Did something happen? He shouldn’t care this much. He shouldn’t care at all. They are due to leave soon – the horses are saddled and the furrow in Cassandra’s brow is getting deeper by the moment, that’s why he’s here. Because she is being irresponsible, inconsiderate, and they are losing valuable daylight and the scouts are expecting them in exactly 5 weeks time and-

“Inquisitor?”

Nothing.

Three beats of his heart, louder and faster.

His hand reaches for the door handle, but he pulls it away the second his fingertip makes contact with the cool metal. Not appropriate, definitely not appropriate for him to invade the Inquisitor’s private quarters without an explicit invitation. She has given none. She hasn’t given anything, and he wonders how long it takes until Cassandra comes storming up here herself.

“Nymeria?”

He has no choice. He opens the door and is greeted by the very last thing he could’ve ever expected. Music floats down the stairs from her quarters, light and lilting and beating in time to his racing heart as he crests the stairs and sees her.

She’s getting ready for departure… kind of. She’s half dressed, wearing her leather breeches and breast band and an olive-green robe-like tunic that is hanging wide open - and his immediate thought is that he definitely should not be here, and he definitely should not be looking, but he finds it absolutely impossible to close his eyes as she twirls around the room, tying her robe securely around her waist and she spins and sways. Her feet, her legs, her arms all move in time to something he’s never seen before, never heard before. She appears to be floating, her hair trailing behind her as her arms loop over her head, her legs extend in front of her and descend, leading her into a series of turns. She’s humming too, to the music coming from a machine on her desk unlike anything he’s ever seen, but he only pays it a second of thought before his eyes are drawn back to her.

She freezes when her eyes open and meet his. 

Neither of them moves an inch. The air is so still he feels like the Veil might snap.

Then, her face and neck bloom a brilliant, bright red, and her eyes squeeze shut as if she is doing everything in her power to wipe the current moment from existence. 

He cannot deny that the color suits her. The blues and golds of her eyes seem infinitely brighter against her blushed skin, her platinum hair even more iridescent. 

“That’s… not Dalish.” 

It is quite possibly the most idiotic and least charming thing he could have possibly said. He does not remember the last time a woman made it difficult for him to form words. 

“No.” She pauses, her eyes opening and her hands folding in-front of her chest, shrinking into herself. Guilt washes over him as he realizes how mortified she is.

“It’s Orlesian. The dance. And the phonograph. It’s a new invention, some old rich man in Lydes sent it here along with a marriage proposal but of course I said no that’d be ridiculous but I did convince Josie to let me keep the thing despite the affront to the Comte but I don’t really give a shit and-“

She cuts off when she realizes how severely she’s rambling. Her face just continues to get redder, her freckles are drowning in it.

He remembers that her faced looked much the same after their lips met in the Fade the week before.

I’m ready to give it a shot, if you are. A terrible idea, but the words come out anyway.

“A shame for the Comte that he will never have the pleasure of watching you move. Not all could be so lucky.” 

“What?” she says, with an imperceptible little shake of her head and widening of her eyes, prompting her hair to flutter around her face.

“I said that we are late. Cassandra is extremely unhappy with you. She seemed wholly convinced that the Western Approach would simply not wait, even for the Inquisitor.” He recovers quickly, hands behind his back, cool smirk adorning his face.

She sees right through him, of course. She always does. He wonders if he should worry about how deep.

A sly smile blooms on her pink cheeks, like they share a secret. He supposes they do.

“Of course. My deepest apologies, Solas, some things can easily distract me.” He wishes he had imagined the way her eyes raked across his body as she turned to put on her coat. His stomach is dancing now, too. 

She steps over to the machine and the air feels strange when the music leaves it. She is tying her footwraps, and he is not in control of how his eyes wander as she bends over.

“What are you staring at? Let’s go.” Her smile is shy this time. It stays with him all day.


End file.
